Alex Armstrong: Awakening

ALEX ARMSTRONG: AWAKENING

HAYES FARLEY

Published by Hayes Farley
Copyright © Hayes Farley, 2015
Visit Hayes Farley’s official website at
hayesfarley.com
Edited by Mollie Mohr Turbeville
Cover design by Jeroen ten Berge
Ebook Formatting by
Guido Henkel
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

This one is for my mom.

1 - Departure

1

Departure

“You oughtta double-check that you packed everything.”

“I should be good; all I’m really bringing is clothes.” Alex went ahead and looked anyway. He peeked inside each of his suitcases and duffel bags. He thumbed through the mound of jackets and coats and other cold weather gear piled in the driveway. “It’s all here.”

Mr. Armstrong nodded and took a long look down the street. The two of them had been standing there for ten minutes.

“It’s already humid,” Alex said. He heard a seagull squawk and flap its wings somewhere in the distance.

Mr. Armstrong wiped the back of his hand across his forehead at the thought. “Well, you won’t be dealin with it much longer. The air’ll feel good to you up there. It breathes easier.”

“Yes sir.” Alex was still looking in the direction of the seagull. His eyes settled on the house across the street. It had the same tile roof and stucco exterior as every other house in the neighborhood. Alex was about to look away when he noticed the blinds shift in the window nearest the door. He smiled. “Looks like Mrs. Barnwell is checking on us.”

“Can’t say that I blame her. I’m sure she’s heard that you’re leavin for college. Now she gets to tell all her friends that today was the day.” He paused. “Or she’s just excited to see your old man standin here in his robe.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” Alex said. They started to chuckle but it was cut short at the sound of a car approaching from their left. Alex looked over his dad’s head. It was a Honda. Older model. He’d seen it before. As it cruised past the driveway, he noticed his dad checking the time again. “I think you need a new band on that thing. It’s barely hanging on.”

Mr. Armstrong rolled his wrist and considered it. “Yeah. Probably have to go up a size. Must be from all that time in the gym.” He kept a straight face.

No one would ever call his dad fat. Burly would be more like it. And definitely on the shorter side. They once went to a Halloween party dressed as Gimli and Legolas. Any time they were with his dad’s old friends, someone would always joke, “Thank God Alex looks like his mother.”

“That must be it. Right on time.”

Alex followed his dad’s finger and spotted a driverless Mercedes rolling down the street. Full autopilot had been around for a while, but it was mostly limited to commercial vehicles.

“I don’t think Pal Tech is hurtin for money.”

Alex nodded, not taking his eyes off the black sedan as it parked in their driveway. The doors swung open and the trunk lifted with a slight hydraulic hiss. In the movies, some high-level government official would be stepping out. Or a crime lord. The blinds moved again.

Mr. Armstrong walked to the back of the vehicle. “Electric. No wonder we didn’t hear it. Huge trunk, too. We can lay your coats back here.”

They didn’t waste any time. They stuffed the floorboards with the sock and underwear duffels and laid the suitcases flat along the backseat. His laptop and tablet rode shotgun and a dozen hats with brims curved just so stretched across the back window. A few more miscellaneous items and then the
thud
,
thud
,
thud
,
thud
of three doors and a trunk and they were done. Now the two of them just stood there.

“Did you call your friends?”

“No sir, not yet. I’ll sync my phone when I get in the car and give them a call. I’ll have plenty of time to kill.”

“Well, you can always kill it by callin me. I don’t mind bein used.” Mr. Armstrong grinned and put a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder and pulled him in close. “I don’t know if I like you growin up on me so soon.”

Alex felt his stomach tighten. “I don’t know if I like it either.” He stared at the ground and for a few minutes didn’t say a word. “I don’t think I’m ready for this, Dad.”

“You’re just nervous.”

“Yeah but…‌it’s more than that. I mean, I’m only sixteen. What the hell am I doing already going off to college?”

“You’re startin the rest of your life, that’s what you’re doin. There’s nothin left for you at high school, Alex. You’ve taken every course they offer. What, are you gonna sit around and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“No, I was thinking we would hang out. Play golf. I could help you with your work. I don’t know.”

Mr. Armstrong thought about that for a while. “I suppose we could do those things. I could probably even become a halfway decent golfer. But it wouldn’t be right. All we’d really be doin is puttin your future on hold.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I don’t have to guess. I know. Now, this may be hard for you to believe, but I remember my parents dropping me off at college. Both of em—
both
—were cryin as they left the dorm. And I felt like cryin too. I was scared. I’d never been on my own before. But you know what? It didn’t take long before I met a whole new group of friends. Good friends. And your mother. It ended up bein the best time of my life.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alex, there shouldn’t be a doubt in your mind about this journey. Pal Tech couldn’t be a more perfect fit. You were destined for this place. Remember that recruiter I told you about? Not the one we’ve been meetin with all year. The first one. Way back when.”

“You told me.”

“That’s right. That first recruiter visited me when you were still in diapers. Told me right then and there that this day would come. That you’d be a Pal Tech student. They knew there was somethin special about you. That you were born for this place.” He saw Alex start to smile. “There you go. It’s okay to be happy. Hell, you
should
be happy. I’m the one who’s supposed to be sad.”

Alex laughed.

“What am I doin even worryin about you? I should be worried about
me
. There you go; laugh it up. I’m serious, though. What am I gonna do with my little buddy gone for a year? There isn’t anybody else I wanna hang out with. Nobody else I wanna eat with. You know how lonely I’m gonna be?” Mr. Armstrong paused and gathered himself. “Now come here and give me a hug before I start cryin all over the place.”

They hugged. Alex did his best to keep his own tears at bay but couldn’t hide the occasional sniffle. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you more.” Mr. Armstrong took his son by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length, drinking up his features one more time before pulling him in for another hug. This one was shorter. “All right, that’s enough of that. We’ve given old lady Barnwell enough of a show.” He guided Alex to the front seat. The car addressed him by name as he buckled in.

“Pretty fancy,” Mr. Armstrong said. “Gimme a call once you get on the interstate.”

“You know I will.”

Mr. Armstrong nodded and
clinked
the metal roof a couple times with his ring finger before stepping away. The electric engine whirred to life and the car backed out of the driveway.

Alex was halfway down the street when he glanced in the rearview. He saw his dad still standing there, wiping his eyes.

2 - Arrival

2

Arrival

Beep…‌Beep…‌Beep…‌BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

Alex woke and jerked forward. Bright red warnings flashed on the monitors. He glimpsed something in the road and braced himself between the door and center armrest and held steady as the car swerved left and right. The beeping stopped. Alex twisted in his seat and looked out the back window and saw a piece of tire tread curled on the blacktop like some kind of carcass. He leaned back and closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Where are we?”

“Five miles outside of Knightsville, North Carolina.” The computer had a female voice. British.

Alex tried to relax his shoulders. When his heart rate returned to normal he raised his seatback and looked at the map display. He was eight hours from home. “Radio on. Alt Rock.” A song he had heard maybe once before started playing through the speakers.

Alex saw the wooden sign welcoming him to Knightsville. He smiled, not so much at the sign, but because he remembered that just beyond it was a tree stump carving of a jousting knight. With his lance leveled right at the roadway, it looked like he was challenging the town’s visitors. As Alex passed safely by, he noticed the two spotlights at the horse’s feet and wondered if the carving would look more menacing at night.

The road curved away from the stump, and now Knightsville could be seen in its entirety. It felt as familiar as the last time Alex visited, reminding him of every small town he had ever seen in the movies. There was a little red-bricked courthouse with white columns. A police station. A church. There was even a barber shop with one of those blue- and red-striped poles. Downtown was condensed onto a short stretch of road appropriately titled Main Street. It was lined with brick buildings, the upper portions of which were either vacant or held offices of some sort, while the lower levels were inhabited by various mom-and-pop stores and eateries.

“Radio, off.” Alex wasn’t in the mood. Besides, he’d rather just read about it later.

About two miles north of town, Main Street lost its lines and shoulders and stopped being called Main Street. Country homes with satellite dishes the size of trampolines stood on either side. The last one had a few acres of land and a cow standing sentry with its head between the fence rails. Alex looked in the rearview to see if the cow swiveled its head, but it paid him no mind and just stood there chewing. The road veered east and began switchbacking up the mountain. Alex’s ears popped. When he swallowed, they popped again.

The smell of firewood seeped into the cabin as he passed the first mailbox.
Johnston
. With the second switchback came another mailbox.
Ragland.
He craned his neck and tried to follow the little dirt driveway but it disappeared into the trees. He gave up and looked out the windshield.

At the fifth switchback, he spotted the white mailbox. There was no name on this one, only the number 2000 arranged vertically on its post. The dirt driveway looked just like the others.

“Turning onto 2000 Paladin Way.”

The ride was bumpy for a few minutes as the Mercedes rumbled along the path. Alex screwed the cap on his bottle of water. The car passed beneath a large white oak and made one more left and then the
tink tink tink
of clumps of dirt against the metal undercarriage came to a stop. Pavement. Alex looked at the map. Less than a mile away.

There was a slight rise and then the land on either side of Paladin Way opened into a well-manicured field. A couple of picnic tables were arranged overlooking Knightsville. Alex rolled down the window and a nice breeze drifted through the cabin. The air smelled of pine.

The Mercedes came to a stop. “We have reached your destination.”

Something was wrong. The wrought iron gate was closed and the red brick buildings beyond showed no sign of life. Even the fountain was off. Alex looked at the map again and then back at the gate. It was taller than he remembered. Then again, it had been open when he and his dad had visited. He looked at the sharpened points atop each of the metal rods.

“I do believe that you look lost.”

Alex traced the voice to the man standing just left of the gate, his flannel shirt acting as camouflage against the brick wall. He was tall and thick-chested and looked something like the Brawny man—if the Brawny man had given up shaving for a year. His counterpart to the right also wore jeans and flannel but was quite a bit younger and didn’t have a hair on his head save for his eyebrows. Both men wore pistols on their hips.